


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Writers Month: August 2019 [10]
Category: Salton Sea (2002)
Genre: Arrests, Derogatory Language, Drugs, Drunk Driving, Gen, Handcuffs, Insults, Revenge, cannon character death, criminal, punches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-13 03:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: He wouldn’t stop at anything to destroy his car, destroy the cop cars and have his presence known. Whether they had found the coke he had stashed away or not, he was heading in now, he’d gotten what he wanted. For Liz. Anything for Liz.Writersmonth Day 11 Prompt:Whump





	Hit Me With Your Best Shot

He was slammed with force up against the car, groaning as he was kicked in the shin. He was shoved further, his head ground to one side as he winced at the cold metal. His head was then yanked up, a tough hand gripped tight at his gelled mohawk, clawing at him, he groaned again. He was dropped, his right cheek colliding with the boot again with a thud.

Then he heard it, the chains. He tried to relax his arms as his right was ripped from him, shoved into the manacles that clinked. Then the left followed, with brute force, bound behind his back. He was trembling, trying to kick out at the figure at his back. He didn’t get anywhere. He was yanked free from the car, and guided around its side. The door opened and he was shoved in, hard, barely the whole way in when the door slammed. He was surrounded, isolated, all thoughts filled by the raging sirens, the red lights blaring, the sound of his end. His defeat.

The driver had little concern, taking harsh corners, swerving into different lanes that he struggled to keep upright, the handcuffs not helping stop himself from colliding with the windows.

When they approached the Police station, he was no longer listening to their insults, his attention focused solely on the raging pain that stung the left side of his cheek, the cut he was sure was now bleeding, and the likelihood of a black eye that would grace his broken face by morning.

The car door swung open and two huge hands wrapped around him tight, binding themselves to him. He was wretched from the backseat and again thrown up against the side of the car with a grunt. Those hands rubbed him down, smacks all down his legs heightened by the leather, as he was searched. He knew he wasn’t holding and so did they for they had ripped anything of any physical value from him when they tore him from his own vehicle.

The second officer rounded the corner and hauled him back to his feet as he was now unsteady, the three of them trudged up the steps. On the top step he was forced to the floor, knees colliding with the concrete. They were yelling things, he picked up the odd ‘scumbag’ and ‘rot in hell’ but didn’t bring himself to care.

If anything, he was laughing. If he was being honest with himself he had been laughing inside the entire time. At the touches and useless punches, at the punishment he asked them for. For ramming them with his own car, strung out with a bottle in hand, throwing himself into their hands.

Sure Tom Van Allen would’ve never ran a red light but Danny Parker wouldn’t stop at anything to destroy his car, destroy the cop cars and have his presence known. Whether they had found the coke he had stashed away or not, he was heading in now, he’d gotten what he wanted.

He would have his revenge, for Liz who didn’t deserve a single hit. Danny, he needed every hit and wouldn’t stop, until those bastards were dead, when they were rotting in hell and Tom’s angel, would finally be avenged.


End file.
